


Renegades

by Changaroo



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Chronic Illness, Difficult Topics, Disability, Fluff, Friendship, It’s not too bad though I promise, I’ll add more tags later, Major Illness, Medical Conditions, More Fluff, Shenanigans, kids being kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 09:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15482613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Changaroo/pseuds/Changaroo
Summary: After a shocking diagnosis, Changbin is sent to Ward Nine, a long-term adolescent ward for seriously ill teenagers. Amongst the sterile white walls and crushing silence, he believes his childhood is over; until he meets a group of eight young residents who are determined to rebel against their fate. As friendship flourishes against the backdrop of sickness and uncertainty, Changbin learns the meaning of love, strength – and what it really takes to turn everything upside-down.





	Renegades

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is an AU I’ve wanted to write for a while now, but never really got round to until recently xD It’s inspired partly by the show Red Band Society (which I kinda hated, but did give me the idea for this fic) and partly by my own experiences with a chronic illness. This is absolute trash (as usual lol) and I’m totally not happy with it, but I’ve decided to post it anyways. So, uh...hope you enjoy! :D

**CHANGBIN**

From the outside, Forest View looks more like a hotel than a hospital. It’s a tall, L-shaped building with modern white walls and a gleaming glass front, which curls around a neat garden with trimmed hedges and pebble paths leading to a fountain in the centre. The facility was built just twenty years ago – only a few years before Changbin was born – and it still has that brand-new, polished atmosphere about it, like a toy freshly out of its packaging. It doesn’t seem quite real.

But then, nothing about this situation does.

His mother twists the ignition and the engine cuts off. She rummages in her handbag and produces a square of gum, which she snaps and pops into her mouth. “Looks nice, doesn’t it?”

Changbin shrugs. “I guess.” Technically, it does look nice. But it’s a hospital, and it’s full of sick people, and he doesn’t want to be abandoned here.

His mother opens the car door and steps out. Her high heels click against the parking lot. “Come on, Changbin, we don’t have all day. I have a meeting at two. Help me carry your bags to the ward.”

“Yes, mom.” With a sigh, he climbs slowly out of the car and takes the black rolling suitcase she holds out to him. He’s tired and his chest is aching, even though he hasn’t done anything today but sit in the car and watch his hometown blur away through the window. He supposes he should get used to this.

He follows his mother across the parking lot and up the four steps to the main entrance. It has a glass revolving door, and Changbin almost gets stuck in it, because he’s too busy straining his neck to look back at the cherry blossoms in the garden. His mother grabs his arm and pulls him through.

“Stop playing around,” she tells him sharply. Then her voice softens. “I’m sorry, honey, but you know how much I hate hospitals. The sooner I can leave here, the better.”

_The sooner you can leave_ me, Changbin thinks. “Yes, mom.”

They approach the reception desk, and while they’re waiting, Changbin takes the opportunity to gaze around at his new home. Despite the glamorous exterior, the inside of Forest View is just like any other hospital, except more spacious and stunningly white. The white light reflects off the white floor and the white walls to create a dazzling effect; yellow spots appear in his vision, as if he has stared at the sun for too long. 

The hospital is startlingly quiet. When he had been in the City Hospital in Seoul for two weeks following the incident, it had been constantly bustling with beeping machines and chatter and people crowding through the corridors, as if it were the heart of the city itself. Here, it’s almost deserted. Every few minutes, a lone figure will walk quietly past and out through the doors, without so much as glancing at them. 

Changbin briefly wonders if he’s turned invisible, until the receptionist hurries back behind the desk with a disposable cup of coffee in a cardboard sleeve. 

“Sorry,” she says breathlessly. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. We don’t usually have many people here.”

His mother tuts. “Yes, well, don’t worry about it. I quite understand.” Her tone is warm honey, melted over a shard of ice. “Seo Changbin. He should have a bed on Ward Nine. Long-term adolescents. He has a heart condition.”

The receptionist gives him a look of sympathy, then types something into her computer keyboard, the keys clicking slowly. His mother taps her foot and glances significantly at her watch. “Ah yes, here we are! Seo Changbin, Ward Nine, room three. You’ll be on floor seven. The elevator is just to your left.”

“Excellent. Thank you,” his mother says curtly. Changbin gives the receptionist an apologetic glance, then hurries after her to catch the elevator door.

The elevator is made of glass, too. Changbin thinks it’s pretty cool; he can see the cables scrolling past as they ascend. He wonders how easy it would be to smash the glass. Perhaps if he did that, he would get kicked out, and then his mother would have no choice but to keep him. 

The door pings open. 

The seventh floor looks almost identical to the lobby, with gleaming white everywhere. Across the corridor from the elevator is a set of double doors, with neat wooden letters spelling _’Ward Nine’._ Beneath them, someone has scrawled _‘Enter If You Dare’_ in sloppy red writing. Changbin snorts.

His mother glances sideways at him and rolls her eyes. “It’s not funny, Changbin. Graffiti in a hospital, that’s disgraceful!”

Changbin just shrugs. At least it proves there’s some form of life here.

They push through the double doors and walk down the corridor to room three. It’s not bad, as hospital rooms go; in the City Hospital, he had had to share a bedspace with four other patients. Here, the room is fairly spacious, with an ensuite bathroom and a television, and an armchair in front of the wide window. There are two beds against the right wall, with a blue curtain that can be pulled between them. The bed closest to the door has crumpled sheets and a couple of stuffed toys lying on the pillow, and the bedside table has a stack of books and an iPod lying on it. The second bed is crisp and empty. Changbin crosses the room and sits down on the edge of it to catch his breath.

“This isn’t too bad,” his mother says, looking around. “I didn’t know you’d have to share with another patient, though. Be careful not to catch anything from them.”

_“Mom,”_ Changbin says. His mother turns to him and her eyes soften, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Oh, Changbinnie. My Changbinnie. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, mom,” Changbin chokes into her shoulder. He wants to cling to her like a toddler and beg her to take him home, but he knows that’s not going to happen. His mother never changes her mind. “But you’ll come visit, right? Every week?”

“I’ll come when I have time,” she says vaguely. “You know I’m very busy making money to pay your medical bills.”

Changbin sighs, feeling an stab of guilt. “Yes, mom, I know. Thank you. You’ll…you’ll come if I get my transplant call, though, won’t you?”

“Of course I will, honey. I wouldn’t miss you getting your new heart for the world.” She kisses the top of his head and pulls back. “Stop making me cry, I’ll smudge my makeup.” She takes out a folded tissue and dabs it carefully under her pristine eyeliner. “I’m going to go now, baby. I don’t want to be late for my meeting, and I have a flight to catch in the evening.”

“A flight? Where to?” 

“Italy.” She preens. “I shouldn’t be there long, though. A month at the most.”

“A _month?”_

“Yes, Changbin. Are you a parrot? A month. So I won’t be able to see you until I get back.”

“Oh.” Changbin’s heart drops. He’s never had a close relationship with his mother, but the idea of being left alone in a strange hospital without seeing her for over a month makes him want to cry. “Okay. I’ll see you when you get back, then.”

“Sure, honey.” She blows him a kiss. “Goodbye, darling!”

“Bye, mom,” he says quietly. “I love you.”

“You too, honey, you too!” Then she is gone, her high heels clicking against the polished floor. He can hear her footsteps echoing all the way down the corridor, then the sound of a door opening, then closing. 

Silence.

Changbin crosses to the window. It has a pleasant view, overlooking the gardens and the adjacent wing of the hospital, but beyond that, greyish tower blocks loom into the sky. There are a few tiny figures in the garden, walking around or being pushed in wheelchairs or sitting on little wooden benches. He watches them, wonders about who they are and what has made them end up here, and he doesn’t turn away, not even when he hears quiet footsteps in the doorway. He doesn’t want his roommate to see him cry.

The footsteps come closer. “Hi. You must be my new roommate, right? Chan-hyung said someone new would be arriving today.”

The voice is gentle and friendly. Changbin scrubs at his eyes with his sleeve and turns warily. His roommate is a little taller than him – most people are – but he looks younger, with neat, dark hair and shining eyes and a wide smile that displays thin silver braces. He has an oxygen cannula tucked beneath his nose. It loops behind his ears, then trails down to attach to a canister with wheels at his feet. Changbin tries not to stare. 

“Seo Changbin,” he says in the steadiest voice he can manage. “I’ve just arrived.”

“Yang Jeongin.” He holds out a hand and Changbin shakes it, than almost winces at how cold it is. His fingers feel like ice. “I’ve been here for a while now, since I’m waiting for a lung transplant. Don’t worry, I can look after you!” 

His bright eyes crinkle up into a smile. Changbin’s heart melts slightly, and he gets the unexpected urge to wrap Jeongin in a tight, protective hug. He looks so _young_. “How old are you?”

“I’m fourteen.”

“I’m sixteen. You can call me hyung.”

“Okay, Changbin-hyung.” Changbin expects Jeongin to leave him alone after that, but instead, he comes to stand beside him at the window. “It’s scary at first, isn’t it?”

Changbin flickers his eyes away from the garden. “What is?”

“Coming here.” Jeongin smiles faintly, in a way that looks far too old for his childlike features. “I remember when I first came. I had just turned thirteen. I cried, too, in the parking lot, and begged my mom not to leave me.” 

“You were thirteen?” Changbin gapes at him. “You’ve been here for a whole _year?”_

“Yeah. Before that I was at Children’s. It takes a long time to get a transplant.” He cocks his head curiously. “What are you here for?”

“I’m, um, I need a transplant too. A heart transplant. I have myocarditis and arrhythmia.” The words still sound garbled and unfamiliar on his tongue. “They only found out a couple of weeks ago. I was playing soccer with my friends and then I just suddenly, uh, collapsed. No warning or anything. They gave me a pacemaker, but they said it won’t work for very long.”

Jeongin looks at him, sympathy warming his deep brown eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. Changbin usually hates that, but he sounds so genuine and understanding that for once, it doesn’t anger him. “It isn’t so bad here, really. You’ll be alright.”

“I hope so,” Changbin mutters. He turns back to the window. “Where’s the forest?”

“What?”

“This place is called Forest View. Where’s the view of the forest?”

“Um, I don’t know. I thought it was just a name. There’s never been a forest while I was here. You should ask Chan-hyung, he might know.” 

“Who’s Chan-hyung?”

Jeongin leans his head against Changbin’s shoulder. It’s a strange display of affection from a near-stranger, but it doesn’t feel unpleasant, so he doesn’t shrug him off. “Chan-hyung is amazing,” he says, which really doesn’t answer the question at all. “He’s our leader, and he always looks after us.”

“Who is ‘us’?”

Jeongin tilts his head to the side and looks at him for a long moment. “Can I trust you?”

“Um.” The sudden change of tone throws him off for a second. “I guess? Yeah. I mean, I’m not going to smother you with a pillow in your sleep.”

Jeongin giggles. “Good. I don’t think the nurses would like that.”

Changbin manages a small grin. “Yeah, you can trust me.”

He lowers his voice to a dramatic whisper, even though the door is closed and there is clearly no-one in earshot. “We have this group, the eight of us; me, Chan-hyung, Woojin-hyung, Minho-hyung, Seungmin-hyung, Hyunjin-hyung, Felix-hyung and Jisung-hyung. We meet up with each other to secretly to break the rules and cause trouble and have fun, because it gets so boring here. It’s like…like a gang!”

Changbin can barely hold back his smirk. “You, in a gang?”

Jeongin pouts. “I’m tougher than I look!” But then he giggles again. “Okay, maybe it’s not quite a gang. More like…a secret organisation. A rebel group.”

“A resistance.”

“Yes, I like that!” He claps his hands, delighted. “A resistance. We rebel against the system.” He looks around furtively. “Do you want to join us?”

He blinks, startled. He’s been at the hospital for ten minutes, and he’s already being asked to join a ‘gang’. His immediate instinct is to refuse and get the hell away from here, because seriously, who joins a _gang_ in hospital? But then he realises that if he doesn’t accept this offer, he’ll seem cold and standoffish, and will probably never make any friends for his entire stay, which seems like it could be a long time. He’s nervous – he doesn’t want to resign himself to being one of the sick people – but more than anything, he doesn’t want to be lonely. 

“Okay,” he hears himself say. “Sure. I’ll join.”

“Yay!” Jeongin claps his hands together happily, seeming to forget entirely about the need for secrecy. He looks at the little black watch on his wrist. “I’ll take you to meet everyone soon! You should probably unpack before then, though. Do you want me to help?”

“No, I’m okay.” His eagerness to help is adorable, like a little child begging their parents to let them do chores. “I can do it myself.” Honestly, he would be glad of a little time alone.

Jeongin shrugs, unconcerned. “Okay. I’ll pull the curtain across. Wake me in an hour if I haven’t come to get you.”

“Sure.” Jeongin disappears behind the blue curtain. 

Changbin watches him leave and listens to the bed creak as he settles into it, followed by silence. With a quiet sigh, he turns to his suitcase and bends slowly to unzip it. Folded clothes appear, a subtle monochrome of black and white and grey, packed with his notebook and his mobile phone and his favourite headphones. His entire life up to this point – sixteen years of hopes and dreams and promise of the future - compressed into a single black rolling suitcase. Is this all it comes down to?

But he can’t let himself become morbid and philosophical, not when he’s going to be stuck here for so long. Instead, he hangs his clothes on the rail and stacks his books and headphones on the bedside table and sticks his single band poster to the wall, then steps back to admire his new home.

It looks eerily like his bedroom – with the same clothes and objects and poster – but different enough to be unnerving. It’s as though someone has recreated the essence of Changbin in its simplest form, carving out the tiny aspects of humanity, like an empty film set of his life. The room is cold, harsh, impersonal.

Changbin rolls onto his back on the bed and stares up at the white ceiling.

Home sweet home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I have no fricking clue where I’m going with this fic, so if you have any ideas for anything you’d like to read, feel free to suggest stuff in the comments. All comments and kudos are hugely appreciated - my fragile writer soul thrives on validation xD


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